Five stories of pure torture.
The area is teeming with people in all sorts of costumes, some coming right up and staring eerily at us as we pass. Some jumping out of the dark shadows, and we aren’t even at the entrance yet.
There’s a crowd gathered around a masked man, abs on display as he arches his back, bellowing a flame out of his mouth. The crowd gapes and claps as he takes a deep bow, eyes finding mine. I look away quickly, but can’t shake the feeling that he’s still staring.
Sure enough, when I turn to look back, he’s standing, eyes glued to my direction.
Callie knocks into me. “Oh fuck, he’s hot.”
I nod my head in agreement, following her lead. As crazy as it feels to admit, seeing the way he looked at me ignited something in me. Something that feels akin to desire.
A few people stumble out of the exit wearing matching “I survived Nightmare Acres” t-shirts looking like they fully enjoyed themselves, but the splatters of fake blood on their faces and arms give me pause.
“You’re not chickening out on me, are you?” Callie asks, breaking me from my slight panic.
I know if I tell her I’m out, she’ll respect my decision. But all that waits for me at home is watered down wine, an empty bed, and a head full of regrets, so I decide to vagina up and go in.
“Nah, I’ll stay.”
“That’s my favorite bitch. We’re going to have fun, you’ll see. I was here last weekend.”
“With Janna?”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Mayyybeee.”
“Well, I want to hear all about it. Did she ask you out or did you ask her?”
“I asked, and we’re keeping it casual for now.”
“For now? That’s promising.”
Callie is extremely averse to having a committed relationship. We joke that we are each other’s longest relationship, because in a way it’s true.
We wait in line as distant screams penetrate through the walls. Thankfully, it’s not too cold of a night. Some years before, it snowed on Halloween when Jasmine was barely one years old, making trick or treating absolutely miserable. My mind slips to wondering if the girls are having a good time with Trent.
Maybe I should text them.
I worry my bottom lip, already piecing together the kind of response that would get from my ex. Knowing him, he’d take out his frustration on the girls. It’s best just to wait out the night, even though it kills me.
“Hey. They’re fine.” Callie says, bumping my hip with hers, knowing exactly what I’m thinking of.
“It’s just hard to leave them. Especially with Trent. You remember that time he lost Isobel at Summer Fest?”
She nods. “I lost my good flip flops looking for her.”
I breathe out of my nose, remembering the fear I felt that day. Of course, the judge presiding over our case just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It happens. Young kids take off all the time.”
He didn’t care to hear that he lost her because Trent had been too busy hitting on one of the carnie workers. I groan into my hands.
“They’ll be fine, Olivia. He most likely learned his lesson.”
“Most likely. Now I feel better.”
She gives me a sad smile and tucks me against her for a quick hug, arms sliding around my tense shoulders. She knows that because of our court ordered agreement, I have no choice but to let my girls go with him.
“Let’s try to enjoy the night together, yeah?” Her eyes plead with me, and I relent, forcing myself to take in my surroundings and be present.
A man on stilts walks past leaning down every once in awhile to make faces at people who aren’t paying attention. When they finally notice he’s there, they scream and then laugh, as he moves on to his next target. A few take some selfies with him to post on their socials.
